


A Different Life

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Exes to Lovers, M/M, Second Chances, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 05:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Peter Parker and Wade Wilson’s marriage was over before it even had a chance to begin. But now, twelve years later, Peter Parker is almost-happily in a relationship with Harry, about to get married to him. He receives a letter informing him that Wade Wilson is filing for divorce- they’ve been married all along. Suddenly, Wade is back in his life, and Peter can’t help wondering what life might have been like if he’d stayed with Wade. As they navigate their divorce, and their current failing relationships, the pair find themselves falling for each other once again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the Spideypool Big Bang. :)  
> Massive thanks to adumbtree-draws for gorgeous art to go with this fic, which is at:  
> https://adumbtree-draws.tumblr.com/post/183075579337/my-big-bang-piece-for-the-spideypool-big-bang
> 
> Thank you to baby-groot on discord for beta reading my nonsense.
> 
> This has been my first big bang and I'll be honest I didn't have a clue what I was doing, but I like this story and I hope you do, too.

It’s late when Wade stops his car and looks over at Peter. They’ve just come from Uncle Ben’s birthday party, and Peter is still wearing the jeans and green sweater he wore for the festivities. Wade is a little more formal, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, but his brown hair is sticking up wildly around his handsome face as he grins nervously across at Peter.

“Is this what you want, baby?” he asks, his voice tender.

Peter reaches across and takes Wade’s hand, loving as always the way Wade’s skin is so hard and warm. “I want you, Wade.” And he means the words; he’s never meant anything more than he means them. In his eighteen years of life, he’s never cared about anything as much as he cares about Wade Winston Wilson.

Wade is the handsome older man of Peter’s dreams, with him being eight years older than Peter. Having turned up one day to help on the Parker farm, Wade possessed twinkling blue eyes and a sinful smile, and one look was enough for Peter Parker to hurtle, headlong, into falling for the guy.

He’s still not sure where Wade came from or what he did before turning up at the farm, but it doesn’t matter to Peter.

“Marriage is a big deal,” Wade says, cocking his head, raising his eyebrow in the way he always does when he’s about to be funny. “It shouldn’t be entered into lightly, you know.”

Peter snorts. “No, definitely not by two men who barely know each other and who are planning to elope in New York after knowing each other for a month.”

“That would be ridiculous indeed,” Wade smiles. He leans over and presses his mouth, hot and gentle, against Peter’s. His beard scratches Peter’s face.

They haven’t done anything more than kissing- not yet. But everything about Wade promises pleasure; the way his eyes narrow slightly when he sees Peter, the way he kisses Peter slowly and languidly, the way his bulky frame presses against Peter’s slight one… it’s heavenly.

“I love you,” Peter says. He adjusts his glasses nervously. “Shall we do this?”

They make their way into the registry office, hand in hand. It’s a cool evening, and Peter presses against Wade’s side as they cross towards the building from the car. He looks up at Wade for a moment, sighing happily.

The registrar greets them with a pleased smile; they’ve met her before, two weeks ago, when they came down here to arrange this wedding.

“Mr Wilson,” she says, “Mr Parker, how lovely to see you again. Are you ready to begin?”

Wade looks at Peter. Peter knows he’s giving him the option to say no, to change his mind, but Peter has no intention of doing so. He knows what he wants, and it’s standing right beside him, the man of his dreams.

“We’re ready,” Peter says.

The ceremony is short and simple.

“Do you, Wade Winston Wilson, take this man, Peter Benjamin Parker, to be your lawful wedded husband?”

Wade’s blue eyes burn into Peter’s. “I do,” he says, softly.

“And do you, Peter Benjamin Parker, take Wade Winston Wilson to be your lawful wedded husband?”

Peter feels tears prick his eyes. “I do.”

One of the office workers comes to witness the event, and Peter and Wade exchange plain gold bands. Peter swallows hard, trying to avoid tears, as Wade slips the cool piece of metal down over his finger. They went to the local jeweller yesterday, getting the inside of the rings engraved with sweet messages, one of which now rests snugly against Peter’s skin, forever.

“Congratulations,” the registrar says, with a smile. “You’re married.”

Wade kisses him, crushing his lips against Peter’s in a possessive, passionate display of his love. Peter reaches up, wrapping his hands around Wade’s shoulders and clinging on to him tightly. This man is his  _ husband. _

He’s giddy by the time they make it back out to the car park. Wade has lifted him in a bridal-style carry, and the registrar has pressed a Polaroid photograph into his hands. Peter is gazing at Wade with a broad smile.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

The voice is cold. Peter shrinks back from it instinctively, hating the judgement that’s in it. It’s Uncle Ben, leaning against his pickup truck, his arms folded across his chest.

“So what if we did?” Peter asks. Wade releases him, allowing him to slip to the ground and stare firmly at his uncle. “I didn’t think you cared I’m gay.”

“I don’t care that you’re gay, Peter,” Uncle Ben says, and for a moment he looks hurt.

“Then what’s the problem?” Peter asks.

Uncle Ben sighs. He looks at Wade, then back at Peter. “I wasn’t going to tell you this. I never wanted you to find out. I assumed Wade would leave at the end of the harvest and we wouldn’t see him again.”

Peter hears Wade stiffen quietly behind him.

“He’s a mercenary, Peter,” Uncle Ben says. His eyes are burning into Peter’s, honest and open. “He’s killed people for money.”

Peter feels as though the bottom has dropped out of his stomach; his whole world spins dramatically on its axis and he staggers, the breath knocked out of him. He knows that Uncle Ben wouldn’t lie to him, especially about something like this… but Wade? A mercenary?

“Tell him,” Uncle Ben says firmly, looking at Wade over Peter’s shoulder.

Peter looks at Wade, trying to force a smile, to laugh at how ridiculous this is, but it dies when he sees the expression on his husband’s face.

Wade sighs. He looks down at Peter. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

Icy horror begins to wash over Peter. “It’s… it’s true?”

“I’m sorry,” Wade repeats. “I wanted a different sort of life. That’s why I came here. I never lied to you. I just… I just didn’t want you to know.”

Peter’s heart breaks. He pictures this man, a person he thought he knew so intimately, doing unspeakable, bloody things, and he takes a step away from him.

“Let’s go home, Peter,” Uncle Ben says, softly. “We can get this marriage annulled.”

“But-” Wade says, his tone panicked. He takes a step towards Peter, flinching as Peter takes an even larger step back.

“Just get out of here,” Ben says to Wade. “If you love my boy, you’ll want what’s best for him, and what’s best for him isn’t to be married to a criminal.”

“Please go, Wade,” Peter says, and the words come out choked. He pulls of his wedding band, fingers trembling, and presses it into Wade’s hand. Tears are starting to fall freely down his cheeks. “Please go.”

Wade sighs; his bright eyes fall intently on Peter one last time before he heads to his car.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Twelve years later _

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May says warmly through the earpiece in his suit, “how’s wedding planning?”

Peter is swinging from one skyscraper to the next, languid and happy. It’s a cool, quiet evening in New York, and he hasn’t encountered many criminals this evening. “It’s fine,” he says. “I think Harry wants something a bit different from me, though.”

“Well, maybe you’re just an Iowa farmer at heart, Pete,” May laughs. “Harry’s a city boy. He’s going to want the big wedding.”

She isn’t wrong. Peter sighs as he climbs up the side of a building and sits down on the roof to talk. Harry keeps coming over to Peter’s apartment with glossy wedding magazines and fabric samples. Peter keeps putting him off.

“I just… I sometimes wonder if I’m really the marrying type, Aunt May,” he says, honestly, the words sticking in his throat.

He hears her sigh. “Why, Peter?”

The truth is that Harry doesn’t know about Peter’s nighttime activities. It’s part of the reason that they don’t live together yet. He doesn’t think Harry would be a fan of the discovery that Peter is actually Spider-Man and has been for most of the eleven years they’ve known each other; partly, he would hate the idea of Peter getting hurt, but mostly it’s because Harry believes that Spider-Man murdered his father.

That has to be a slight problem in a marriage, right?

“He’s too good for me,” Peter sighs finally.

Across the city, he suddenly sees a flash of red on top of a building; someone has lit about three dozen red spotlights.

“I have to go, Aunt May,” he says. “Science emergency.”

“Wait!” she says, as he leaps from the building. “You got an important looking letter sent here. I’ve forwarded it to you.”

“Thanks, love you!” Peter says, shooting a jet of web up at a neighbouring skyscraper and swinging speedily through the air. He ends the call and concentrates on his journey, wondering who the hell has lit all of those lights and if they’re meant for him.

He’s feeling quite cross about his own feelings towards his impending nuptials and if it’s a trap then he’d quite like to have someone to hit right now. He’s hoping that there’s a gaggle of criminals amassing on the rooftop, guns and knives at the ready, but as he nears it, he can see only one figure.

He lands lightly, close enough to see the figure clearly, but making sure he’s out of arm’s reach. The guy is huge, muscular and hulking, his broad body encased in black and red leather. He’s heavily armed, a pair of swords attached to his back and a huge pistol at his thigh. His body language is not aggressive or threatening, though; he waves happily when Peter lands before him and, although his face is covered, Peter can tell he’s beaming.

“Spider-Man!” he booms, in a deep, masculine voice. “I’m a big fan.”

“Um, have we met?” Peter asks, because there is something familiar about this guy.

“No, but we have mutual acquaintances. Tony Stark is a friend… well, not a friend, but he’s a guy I know and he definitely has strong feelings for me.” The man pauses, then reaches up to scratch his head sheepishly. “I mean, they’re probably not  _ good _ feelings, but they’re strong nonetheless.”

Peter blinks. He recognizes this guy from descriptions he’s heard from the Avengers. “Deadpool, right? Did you need my help with something?”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ you’ve heard of me,” Deadpool replies. “I mean, of course you have, but still.”

“Did you need my help?” Peter repeats, already completely baffled by this strange man. He wonders if they have met before- there’s something deeply familiar about his pleasant baritone, even if he never shuts up.

“No. I just wanted to introduce myself.” Deadpool steps forward, offering his enormous hand to Peter in a friendly gesture. “I’m a big fan, like I said. I’ve been watching you and what you do for a while, and I’m trying to do better because of you. Not that my bride to be is happy about that, but you can’t please everyone, right?”

“No, I guess not,” Peter says, confused, taking Deadpool’s hand.

Deadpool’s hands are thick and strong, and even through their gloves, the heat of his grip burns Peter’s skin. His own fingers are remarkably slender and small in Deadpool’s hand, and he looks at them for a moment, a strange sadness tugging at his heart briefly.

Deadpool is still holding his hand a moment later, his own face pointing towards the place where their fingers are touching. The moment stands still for a second, Peter very aware of the pounding of his own heart.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Peter says, finally, pulling his hand back. He thinks, absurdly, of Harry, and how Harry would feel if he could see his boyfriend momentarily losing his mind over one ridiculously muscular superhero with gorgeously big hands. “I think I’m going to head home.”

“Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to patrol together one night. Tomorrow? Or the day after? I’m easy, honestly, ask anyone. I mean, not easy like that. I have a girlfriend. Almost a wife. But I’m happy to patrol with you any time.”

Peter swallows. He should, ideally, avoid this man. There is something unsettling about him. Peter can’t decide if he is wildly attracted to him or slightly afraid of him. But his mouth betrays him, words spilling out, breaking free and sealing his fate. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, here, at midnight?”

“Great! Sleep well, Spidey!” Deadpool says brightly. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for Peter again, but he doesn’t, and stands still as Peter forces himself to turn away from him and jump from the roof.

Guilt starts to wash over him. It’s not too late; perhaps he should go and visit Harry. He can try his best to be a good fiancé and not a disappointing boyfriend. He tries to think about Harry, but he keeps picturing Harry’s slim, manicured fingers turning into Deadpool’s broad, thick ones and he shivers despite himself as he webs his way home.

*

Harry doesn’t look impressed as he opens the door to his penthouse apartment, looking out with narrowed eyes at his boyfriend. He’s wearing a white waffle robe over his striped pyjamas and was clearly asleep before Peter knocked on the door.

“Couldn’t you have called me to let me know you were coming over?” Harry sighs, reaching up to tug at his hair which, despite his recent sleep, is still perfectly coiffed.

Peter can’t help but think about the enthusiastic way he was greeted by Deadpool an hour earlier, and he has to hide his frown. He pulled on some jeans and a plaid shirt before coming over, and he feels, as always, out of place in Harry’s home.

“Sorry,” he says, softly.

“Come in,” Harry says, shaking his head.

Peter steps inside, kicking off his sneakers and following Harry back to his bedroom.

“How was your day?” Peter asks.

Harry slips off his robe, hanging it up neatly before climbing beneath the black satin sheets. “It was long. I had three new clients. How was yours?”

Peter steps out of his jeans, pulling his shirt off over his head. The garments crumple onto the floor; he knows Harry hates this, but he can’t be bothered to fold them. “I’m still having the same problems with the serum,” he sighs. “But I know we’re nearly there.”

Harry nods. Peter sighs, climbing into bed beside his partner and reaching for Harry’s lean body. Harry is tense for a moment, then relaxes against him.


	3. Chapter 3

After work the following day, Peter heads home and wonders what to have for dinner. His stomach is feeling light and bubbly, and he rather suspects that it has less to do with hunger and more to do with seeing Deadpool again in a few hours.

He’s an engaged man. It isn’t appropriate to feel like this.

When he gets into his apartment, there’s a little stack of mail on the floor by the door. He lifts it, flicking through the typical pile of bills, and stops when he sees the handwritten sticker in May’s handwriting over the top the address on a formal looking envelope.

He frowns, and closes the door behind him, crossing his small apartment to sit down on the sofa and open the envelope. The papers slide out into his lap.

His breath catches in his throat as words leap out at him.

_ Divorce. _

_ Wade Winston Wilson. _

_ Peter Benjamin Parker. _

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles.

His fingers are trembling as he fumbles in his pocket for his phone. He calls Ned, his heart pounding.

“Pete?” Ned answers. “I just got in from work. Is everything okay?”

“Um, I don’t think so. Do you… do you remember when I told you I accidentally got married when I was eighteen?” Peter has his hand pressed against his suddenly throbbing forehead. He tries hard not to let images of Wade Wilson swim into his mind, unable to stop that sinful grin from his past burning into his memory.

“I… no.” Ned pauses. “Peter, did you accidentally get married when you were eighteen?”

Peter is now thinking about the taste of Wade’s mouth, the sweet words whispered against his ear. His body feels both hot and cold, the hairs on his arms sticking up. Wade had had such bright blue eyes. They had made teenage Peter Parker melt. “It… well, it wasn’t an accident.”

“Pete, are you okay?”

“Ned, I just got served with divorce papers.”

“You’re  _ married?” _

“That’s what I’m  _ trying _ to tell you!” Peter exclaims. “I thought Uncle Ben got it annulled but… I guess maybe not.”

“So you’ve  _ always _ been married?” Ned asks.

“Well, not always.”

“Wait- does Harry know?”

“Harry has no idea,” Peter admits. “I dread to think what he’d say. He can’t find out, Ned.”

“Yeah, that would be another thing for you to feel guilty about and stay with him over.” Ned has this infuriating theory that the only reason Peter has stayed with Harry is out of guilt for the death of Norman. Ned is the only person who knows the truth about Peter’s other life, and he has never warmed to Harry.

“Ned,” Peter sighs.

“Sorry. But maybe you should tell him.”

“God, no. I just need to get this divorce done.” Peter sighs. “It shouldn’t be too difficult, should it?”

“Don’t you have to go to court?” Ned wonders.

_ Oh, fuck.  _ Peter imagines seeing Wade again. What will his ex-husband have grown up to be like? He was sinfully handsome in his mid-twenties. He’ll be nearly forty now. That soft brown hair will be streaked with grey, those bright blue eyes surrounded by soft laughter lines. The word that springs, unbidden, to mind is  _ Daddy,  _ and Peter almost laughs at himself.

“Surely there’s the name of the lawyer on the papers,” Ned says, finally offering something useful to this conversation. “Just call them.”

Peter looks down at the papers. The lawyer is one Matthew Murdock, and the address given is here in New York. He swallows.

“The lawyer is here, in New York,” Peter breathes. “Does that mean… does Wade live here too?”

“Well, probably,” Ned says. “Does it matter? You’re just going to divorce the guy. It’ll be far more convenient if you don’t need to travel.”

But Peter isn’t thinking about convenience. He’s thinking about the way he felt, twelve years ago, when Wade Wilson trailed his thick fingers down Peter’s cheek and looked at him like he was the most amazing creature on the planet.

“I guess. Look, I’d better call this Matthew Murdock guy. I’ll speak to you later.”

He hangs up on Ned and takes a moment to catch his breath. Wade is  _ here.  _ He might have walked past him a hundred times, might have been in the same coffee shop or supermarket. Maybe he walked past his apparent husband and didn’t even recognize him.

It’s not like Peter is the same man he was twelve years ago, either. Peter Parker at the age of eighteen was a skinny, nerdy guy with messy hair and glasses. Peter Parker at the age of thirty is… well, still a skinny, nerdy guy with messy hair (no glasses, though; the Spidey powers have robbed him of his need for them).

Does he miss Wade? He sometimes thinks about his aborted marriage, although not often these days. He was so smitten with him, more than he has been since, but he couldn’t see past the horrifying knowledge that his husband was a killer.

Of course, since then, he’s met many killers- and even befriended a few, those few who have a confusing moral compass.

He calls the number for Matthew Murdock. His hand is still shaking wildly.

“Nelson and Murdock,” a man answers, sounding tired. “You’re lucky I was even still here to answer the phone, you know. It’s half past six.”

“Um, I’m calling about a divorce.”

“We don’t do that sort of law, pal. We’re criminal attorneys.” He laughs at himself. “Well, not criminals who are attorneys.”

“Yeah, no, I got that,” Peter replies, feeling incredibly confused. “Look, I got divorce papers and the lawyer’s name is Matthew Murdock.”

“Oh! You’re Matt’s divorce case for Wade,” the man says, brightly. “Well, we don’t usually do this sort of law, but Wade is a friend of Matt.”

“That hardly inspires me with confidence,” Peter returns drily.

“Oh, it’ll be super easy. You haven’t seen him for over a decade, right? In and out case. Open and shut.” The man laughs. “Matt’s gone out for the night, typically. I’ll get him to call you in the morning, if you like.”

Tomorrow is Saturday, and Peter’s day off. “If he’s going to be in the office, I’ll just pop in?”

“Great,” the man says. “I’ll get him to call Wade and get him over, too. Make things easier.”

Peter’s stomach drops. He’s going to see Wade  _ tomorrow.  _ “Sure. I’ll come around ten.”

*

Out in the streets, the cold air makes Peter feel marginally better. He can do this. He’s fucking Spider-Man, for crying out loud. He can stand in front of his soon-to-be ex-husband and manage a civil conversation.

He swings agitatedly from rooftop to rooftop, heading over to the spot where he promised to meet Deadpool. Hopefully, being around the chaotic and chatty superhero will distract him. Although, he did do some research today and found out that Deadpool is actually a mercenary for hire rather than a superhero, despite the fact that he has done some work with the Avengers.

It’s almost funny that he’s going to spend tonight with a mercenary before going to meet the guy he left for being a mercenary.

Almost.

“Spidey!” Deadpool exclaims brightly as Peter lands on the roof beside him.

“Hey, Deadpool,” Peter says. “You okay? Where we patrolling?”

“I’m… well, actually, I thought we could go for tacos first.” Deadpool raises his hand, pressing it against the back of his neck in a bashful manner.

Peter freezes. “Deadpool, are you flirting with me? I thought you said you had a wife?”

“Almost a wife. Besides, tacos doesn’t necessarily mean date. It just… probably means date. Friends have dates too, you know. So it would be nice. If you wanted.”

“Deadpool-”

“I’m joking!” Deadpool laughs, raising his palms in defeat. “Mostly. No tacos? No, I suppose not. Come on then.”

And so Peter finds himself patrolling with Wade.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter webs the mugger to the wall with a satisfied smirk beneath his mask, the sound of Deadpool kicking the asses of the remaining two muggers echoing loudly in the alleyway. He turns to shoot a jet of web at one of them, the impact sending him hurtling into the opposite wall and sticking there firmly.

Deadpool kicks the final mugger hard in the head and he drops heavily to the floor.

“We make a fairly good team, Webs,” Deadpool announces, brightly. “Can I buy you that taco now?”

Peter wants to refuse. But his eyes are drawn again to the way Deadpool’s suit hugs his body, the soothing rumble of his voice. “Sure,” he says, quietly, trying to ignore the guilty feelings tugging at him. It’s just a taco. It’s nothing to worry about.

They set off, heading down the quiet road. It’s very, very late now, and Peter is wondering if there’ll even be a place left open to serve them a taco. He tries to remind himself that he has to be up early in the morning to meet with the lawyers and  _ Wade,  _ but he’s having a nice night and he isn’t quite ready to give that up.

“Look,” Deadpool says, his voice uncharacteristically serious for a moment. “I feel like we should be introduced properly.” He’s stopped walking, and Peter draws to a halt beside him, staring up at his masked face.

“You don’t have to-” Peter says, knowing how cautious he is about revealing his own face.

But Deadpool’s fingers are already hooking beneath the edges of his mask, pulling it away. Peter tries not to gasp at the revelation of his skin; he’s pale and hairless, some sort of dreadful skin condition covering his entire head. It’s covered in mottled scars, a series of dimpled craters and discolourations crossing his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, frowning slightly. “I know I’m not… my skin is…” He bites his lip, a surprisingly nice, white tooth peeking out to hook over his plump lower lip. Then he grins, and his face is transformed; he’s smiling sardonically, but it’s suddenly familiar.

Those blue eyes. That wonderful smile.

That  _ body. _

“Oh my god, Wade, what happened to you?” Peter asks, unable to stop himself.

And they both realize.

Wade takes a step towards Peter, who takes an automatic step back. He feels numb, his body heavy.

“Peter?” Wade breathes.

And Peter does the worst possible thing he could do in this situation. He shoots a jet of web up at the nearest building and swings away, unable to deal with this.

Two hundred metres later, he’s sat on top of a building, his mask clutched in his hands and tears rolling down his cheeks.

*

The following morning, just after eight in the morning, there is a loud banging on the front door of Peter’s apartment.

He wakes up, startled and exhausted, and his body reacts automatically, sending him flying up to the ceiling. He sticks there for a moment, breathing shallowly, his eyes blinking sleepily as he stares at the front door.

Whoever the fuck is here will hopefully fuck off. He can’t imagine anything worse than talking to anyone right now.

There is another loud bang, this time accompanied by a shout.

“Peter, I know you’re in there! Open this fucking door or I’m going to blow it off its hinges!”

It’s Wade.

Peter sighs. Well, he was going to have to see him again today anyway, wasn’t he? He might as well just deal with this. He drops down onto the floor, looking down at his plaid pyjama bottoms and naked torso in despair for a moment before raking a hand through his tangled hair and crossing to the front door.

When he opens it, Wade is glaring in at him, wearing a hoodie and jeans.

“It’s customary to call,” Peter manages, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, because you called me all those times I left messages for you,” Wade says, and his voice is tart.

Peter blinks. “Um, what messages?” He rubs at his face. “Look, whatever, I guess divorce is always going to be shit. What do you want?”

Wade pauses. He looks down at Peter’s body for a minute, then up to his face. His eyes are softer than they were a moment before, and he frowns gently. “I just wanted to talk,” he says, and he sounds vulnerable.

Peter should turn him away. Surely it’s not appropriate to let Wade come in. But what else in his life is normal? “Sure, whatever.”

He steps aside and Wade brushes past him as he enters. He smells strangely normal, like coffee and laundry powder, and the scent is pleasant. Beneath it, there’s hints of the distantly familiar fragrance of his skin.

“How long have you lived here?” Wade asks, looking around his apartment.

“In this apartment? A year or so. In New York? Since I was nineteen.”

Wade sighs. He looks over at Peter, pinning him beneath that intense gaze. “You’ve been here as long as me. We’ve been in the same city this whole time.”

A surge of sadness rises in Peter. He’s been so close to Wade for years. Why does that knowledge hurt him so much? He blinks, reaching up to wrap his arms around his chest, suddenly self-conscious beneath Wade’s stare. “So what?”

“Well, we’ve been married the whole time, Peter,” Wade reminds him. The words are heavy with emotion.

“We weren’t ever married,” Peter replies. “Not really.”

Wade takes a sudden step towards him. Peter’s spidey senses should have sent him backwards, away from danger, but his body doesn’t seem to be registering Wade as a threat. Instead, he swallows as Wade reaches out and places those hot, thick fingers on his shoulder.

“Did it really bother you so much that I was a mercenary?” Wade asks, quietly.

Peter looks up at him. His face is so different, and yet it’s the same: bright eyes and ridiculously handsome features. He’s lovely. He always was. “Of course it did, Wade. You never mentioned-”

“I wanted a different life,” Wade tells him, firmly, his hand still heavy on Peter’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to know. I did call you… a lot. But you never called me back.”

“I never got your messages,” Peter says, suddenly confused.

“I get the impression that Uncle Ben might have withheld them,” Wade says.

Peter steps back at that. “Don’t you fucking dare-”

Wade reads his expression. “Oh, shit, he’s dead, isn’t he? I’m sorry, Pete.”

Peter covers his face with his hand. This is all too strange. Wade Wilson, his  _ husband,  _ is standing in front of him, calling him  _ Pete  _ and smelling delicious and looking at him like he’s the best thing in the world. “He’s dead,” Peter tells his palms. “He had his first heart attack just after you left. That’s why I never tried to call you. I missed you so much.”

The words hurt. They’re honest. Those first early days after Peter left Wade remain some of the worst of his life.

Wade sucks in a breath. “I missed you, too.”

Peter peeks at him through his fingers. He’s still looking at Peter with that soft, desperate expression. Peter forces himself to think of Harry, and takes a step back.

“I need to shower. Presumably we are going to the lawyer together, since you showed up at my apartment.” Peter rubs his tired eyes. “How did you even get my address?”

“I had Matt look it up,” Wade tells him.

Matt? Matt Murdock, presumably. The lawyer.

Suddenly, Peter is jealous. Is Matt Murdock Wade’s partner?

But no. No, of course not. Wade mentioned a wife.

An almost wife. Wade is getting married.

“Is that why you wanted a divorce?” Peter asks suddenly, then remembers he didn’t share the preceding thoughts aloud. He sighs. “Because you’re getting married?” He knows his tone is acidic, but he can’t stop it.

Wade nods, and his face is serious. “Yeah. I get married next month. Matt was helping me with the papers and we discovered that our annulment was never filed.”

“Fine,” Peter snaps. He turns away, heading towards the bathroom, then stops and glares at Wade over his shoulder. “I’m getting married, too, you know.”

He really, really  _ enjoys _ the expression that crosses Wade’s face. The guy looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. His eyes narrow.

“Well, where is he?” Wade asks, and his tone is dark.

“We don’t live together,” Peter admits. “I’m going to shower, Wade.”

*

Walking down to the street next to Wade is very strange. Peter has a flash of a life which could have been, a life where this was how he went down to the street every morning. He still feels so small and fragile next to Wade, despite the powers he’s gained since he last saw his husband.

They walk down the street together. Peter looks down at his sneakers, trying hard to resist the urge to look up at Wade.

“What happened to you?” Peter asks, quietly.

Because it must have hurt, right? Whatever took his husband, who had looked like a model, and made him look like this must have been excruciating. And, despite everything, the idea of it hurts Peter.

“It’s a long story,” Wade replies. “After you and I... well, I came here. Did some work as a merc. Fell in with the wrong crowd. Accidentally became immortal, which was a plus, but also ended up looking like Trump’s ballsack, which was a negative.”

Peter does glance up at him then. “For the record, I think you look fine.”

Wade snorts. “Sure. You, husband mine, still look like a nerdy little twink. I look like something unpleasant you might find in your sink after doing the dishes.”

Peter blinks. He tugs his hat down further over his wayward curls, his ears cold. “How long have you been Deadpool?”

Wade shrugs. “Years. It’s not as interesting as the fact that you’re fucking Spider-Man, Pete.”

Oh, yeah. It’s sometimes hard to remember that there was a time before he was Spider-Man, when he was just regular Peter Parker. “Got bitten by a freaky spider,” he says.

“And became incredibly sticky and flexible?”

Peter grins, unable to stop himself. “As you well know, I was already sticky and flexible.”

“I don’t believe I ever had the pleasure,” Wade replies, smirking, glancing over at him.

Peter blushes. He thinks of hot kisses, bodies pressed together, a powerful  _ need _ that Peter Parker at the age of eighteen had never felt before. He’s felt it since, many times, but never with that same youthful intensity.

“I wish...” Wade starts, then stops himself.

“What?” Peter asks, softly.

But Wade just shakes his head. They’ve reached the offices of Nelson and Murdock, and Wade knocks on the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt Murdock is a small, formidable man with dark glasses hiding his blind eyes and an impatient expression.

“Matt! This is my delightful husband, Peter Parker!” Wade exclaims, as they enter the office. “Have you ever seen anyone so radiant? I mean, no, of course you haven’t.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Murdock.”

“Already I can sense why your marriage didn’t work,” Matt Murdock replies, with surprising humour. “Wade, you are an asshole, and your husband clearly is not.”

Wade snorts, but he glances fondly over at Peter, in a way which makes Peter blush. “No, he isn’t.”

“Sit down,” Matt says, waving his hand. “This should be relatively simple.”

Peter is suddenly filled with a stab of alarm. Wade Wilson has only been back in his life for a matter of hours, but he is already reluctant to cut him off, however relatively simple it may be. He had no idea their marriage is still ongoing, but now that he does, he doesn’t like the idea of divorce.

Which is ridiculous, really. And incredibly stupid.

He imagines Harry’s face if he attempted to explain this ridiculous, stupid part of his life, and he snorts. There are a lot of things he can’t tell Harry, for various reasons, but this is absolutely the worst thing he’s ever kept from his future husband.

And he will continue to keep it a secret. Because of course he will. He has to.

He sits down beside Wade, aware that his fingers are trembling. Glancing over at his husband- his  _ fucking husband-  _ he realises that Wade looks shaken, too.

“How simple are we talking here?” Wade asks. He’s using the tone of voice he uses when he’s trying to make a joke, but something dark and serious lurks at the edges of the words. “Like, will I have time to at least vaguely enjoy my husband before I give him back?”

Matt’s eyebrow quirks. “I’ll have this in front of a judge in forty eight hours. Given the fact you haven’t seen each other in so long, there is no reason a judge would hesitate to grant you a divorce.”

“And I’ll be free to marry?” Peter asks.

Wade stares at him, and Peter hates himself.

“Well, we both need to get married, don’t we?” Peter asks, and he hears the panicked pitch of his voice, cringes from it. “We’re both engaged. We need this… this marriage, whatever it is, to go away. Quickly.”

“You get married next month, Wade,” Matt says, and there’s an undercurrent of warning in his tone. Like he’s reminding Wade of his engagement. “When do you get married, Peter?”

“I… we haven’t set a date.” Peter can feel Wade’s gaze burning into him, and he flushes. “But… soon. I guess. We’ve been together a long time.” And he’s been married to Wade the whole time.

“So we need to get this put to rest,” Matt says, lightly. He passes a piece of paper to Wade. “You just need to sign that. Peter, you too. Then I’ll see you in court in two days.”

Peter watches as Wade looks down at the paper, his expression dark. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down visibly as he swallows, hard. For a moment, his bright eyes fly up to Peter’s face, and he opens his mouth a little, as though he wants to say something. Peter, wildly, recklessly, prays for him to say whatever it is. But he doesn’t, lowering his gaze and signing the paper wordlessly.

When he passes the paper to Peter, their fingers brush. Peter’s eyes feel hot and wet.

Wade has signed his name  _ Wade Winston Wilson-Parker. _

His breath catches in his throat. The tears burning his eyes are threatening to break free. This might be the only time he ever gets to write his name this way, so he signs as  _ Peter Benjamin Parker-Wilson. _

Matt Murdock seems to recognise that something is not exactly typical in the way this divorce meeting is going. He takes the paper from Peter without comment, and stands up. “I’ll be in touch, gentlemen,” he says, softly.

And that’s it.

Peter follows Wade out into the street, feeling wretched. He wraps his arms around himself, looking up at the broad, reliable shape of his husband. Wade looks as bad as he feels.

“Well,” Peter says. He tries to laugh. “That wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

“No. At least we don’t have a house or children to argue about.” Wade is trying to make a joke, but at the thought, both men wince.

That’s exactly what they could have had. It’s pointless trying to deny that there’s something special between them, even now.

“Do you think…?” Peter’s voice trails off. He can’t do this. He can’t.

“What?” Wade asks, with a breathless eagerness.

Peter shakes his head. “I’m going to… I’m going to go see Harry.”

“Do you want me to walk you there?”

Peter wants nothing more than to take Wade’s hand and go everywhere with him. But that’s madness. It’s lunacy. It’s got to be because of the shock of seeing him again.

“No. No, I’ll go. I think I need to be alone,” he says.

Wade nods, surprisingly serious. “I get that.” His eyes look wet.

Peter turns away, takes a step, turns back to Wade. He wrings his hands awkwardly around each other. “Look,” he says. “I don’t know if you want to… patrol together? Later?”

It’s a bad idea, and surely Wade knows that as well as he does. But Wade is nodding.

“Sure thing, Parker,” he says. “I guess nobody else knows what this feels like. It makes sense to be there for each other.”

It makes absolutely no sense to be there for each other, but Peter wants it anyway.

“I thought it hurt losing you the first time,” Wade adds, and the words are quiet. “But this… this is something else.”

His words leave Peter feeling winded, wounded. He’s right. This is worse.

It’s worse because they are getting a painfully clear reminder of what they could have had. They would have been happy.

“I’ll see you later,” Peter says.

Finally, he forces himself to walk away, making his feet take him in the direction of Harry’s office. His legs feel heavy, like they belong to someone else, and he sees Wade in every face he passes.

Was this the right thing to do? What would Wade have said if he suggested they cancel the divorce?

And what about Harry? What about Wade’s wife-to-be?

Peter tries to tell himself that they’ve had their chance. They had their opportunity.

He’s pale and trembling when he stumbles into Harry’s office. Harry isn’t looking at him; he’s on the phone, looking absolutely perfectly put together in a pinstriped shirt, his hair carefully coiffed. He is in stark contrast to Peter, who is freezing and ruffled, a ridiculous hat on his head.

Harry sees him after a few moments, and he doesn’t look pleased to see him. A small wrinkle of displeasure creases the space in between his eyebrows. He finishes his call, and folds his arms.

How long have things been this way?

“Harry,” Peter says, stepping forward, pulling his hat off and releasing the wild tangle of his hair. “I’m sorry- I-”

And, really, isn’t it ridiculous to feel he has to apologise to his future husband for visiting him at work?

“Look, Pete, I’m very busy,” Harry tells him, not moving towards him. “Are you okay?”

_ No. No, not at all. I found out I’m still married to a man you’d hate, a man you can never know about, and I’m trying to secretly divorce him before you can find out. But I think I might still be in love with him. _

“I- yes. I just wanted to see you.”

Harry smiles, but it’s cool. “Peter, you’ll see me when we have dinner tomorrow, as scheduled.”

It’s not Harry’s fault, is it? It’s not Peter’s fault, either. There are secrets between them, but they’re necessary. Harry can’t know about Peter’s secret identity. They’ve been together a long time, a friendship which blossomed into something more between two lonely boys. They needed each other back then, but they don’t need each other anymore.

They’ve outgrown each other.

Peter should react to this horrible realisation calmly, but he’s strung too tightly. “It’s not unusual for someone to want to see the man they’re going to marry, Harry,” he says, the words acidic.

Harry stiffens. His arms are still folded across his narrow chest. “Peter,” he says, and the words are quiet, “I don’t think this is the right time to have this conversation.”

And of course it isn’t. Peter’s in the wrong here. They’re both wrong. The whole thing is wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking, and then the tears start.

They burn as they trail fluidly down his cheeks, and he lets out a sob which sounds pathetic to his own ears. Harry softens immediately, of course, because he isn’t a monster and because they’re  _ friends  _ if nothing else. He crosses to Peter and wraps his arms around him, and Peter sobs into his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter is glad for his mask as he lands lightly on the roof next to Wade. His eyes are still red-rimmed and sore from crying on poor Harry this afternoon.

He feels like an absolute bastard about that, too.

The truth, he knows, is that his relationship with Harry has been over for a long time. They stuck together because they felt they ought to. Harry probably pities Peter, subconsciously. Poor little Peter Parker, with his shitty job and shitty apartment and string of inexplicable bruises. Harry isn’t enough of a bastard to break up with someone as ridiculous as that, and so he’s stuck around, even proposing when he felt he should.

“How’s it going?” Wade asks. He’s unmasked, his face orange in the unnatural glow of the streetlamps below the rooftop.

“Well,” Peter replies, “I got stabbed once. I mean, I’ve been stabbed more than once. But this particular time, it was right through the thigh. I thought I was going to bleed out, and it was agony. Tony managed to save me, of course. But in those last moments- when I was burning with pain and thought it was the end- I still felt better than I do now.”

Wade blinks at him.

Peter sighs. It’s pointless trying to hide from Wade, and he doesn’t want to. He pulls his mask off and sits down next to his husband, who stares in concern at his obviously sorrowful face.

“Baby?” Wade asks, and the word is soft.

He used to call Peter that, way back when they first knew each other. Peter shouldn’t let him call him that now. He should push back, keep his husband at arm’s length when they’re so close to divorce.

“I just feel broken, Wade. My relationship is broken.”

“Because of me?” Wade asks.

Peter shakes his head. “No. Honestly, no. It’s been like this for a long time. I just didn’t see it. Or I didn’t want to see it.”

Wade hesitates, then reaches out to place his enormous hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter melts against his touch.

“Peter,” Wade says, “I know this is a highly inappropriate thing to say, but that’s sort of my whole personality, so please forgive me. I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty, but I’m very glad I got to see you again.”

Peter stares at him. Those bright blue eyes are quite serious. For a moment, Peter can blink and see the younger man he had married, the one with thick hair and smooth, soft skin. He can remember the love that swelled up inside him when their eyes met.

“Did you know it would be like this?” Peter asks. “When you filed for divorce?”

“I didn’t realise we’d have to see each other,” Wade admits. “I guess it would have been easier.”

God, so much easier. “But you’re glad?” Peter prompts, even though Wade has just admitted he is.

With the hand not on Peter’s shoulder, Wade brushes his thick fingers tentatively across Peter’s cheek. The touch ignites something within Peter. Nobody has ever looked at him the way Wade did, the way Wade is looking at him now.

“Fuck,” Wade says, quietly.

“Fuck,” Peter agrees.

Wade is looking at his lips, leaning closer. One finger brushes across Peter’s lower lip, and they can’t do this, but Peter  _ wants  _ to do it.

Then they hear the gunshot below.

“Duty calls,” Wade says, drawing back, regret darkening his features.

Peter leaps up, and his heart is painfully fast, pounding against his chest like a warrior’s drum. He stares at Wade, watching as he lowers his mask over his face, ready to throw himself into danger to save whoever needs saving.

Peter Parker never fell out of love with his husband.

They are down in the alleyway within seconds, and Wade is fucking glorious, literally smashing one mugger into the wall while shooting another through the knee with brutal precision. Peter hasn’t ever been a fan of this sort of vigilantism, not really, but something about watching his furious, ridiculous husband in action is disturbingly appealing.

It distracts Peter, and that’s how he ends up with a bullet through his shoulder.

It takes him a moment to notice. He’s turning when it happens, belatedly aware of someone behind him, and he hears the gun go off. The gun is webbed up and on the ground before he feels the sudden bloom of white-hot pain.

“Shit,” he mumbles.

He shoots a jet of web at his assailant, pulling him forward with his uninjured arm before kicking him square in the jaw. As he topples to the floor, out cold, Peter turns back to Wade, the heat in his shoulder positively throbbing now.

“Webs?” Wade asks, catching sight of him. All of the gunmen are out cold on the ground now. There’s no sign of the person they were shooting at initially.

Peter touches the burning area, and his fingers come away wet.

“Oh, fuck,” Wade says, rushing forward suddenly. “How bad?”

Peter’s knees give out just as Wade reaches him, and he falls into the strong arms of his husband, the world going black.

*

The next thing he knows, his head is on Wade’s lap in the back of a dark car. As he claws his way back to reality, he becomes aware of Wade’s hand brushing his clammy hair back from his burning forehead.

“Wade....” he mumbles.

Wade is pressing something against the wound, the pressure almost crushing Peter. His bright eyes are wide and horrified as he looks down. “It’s going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.”

Peter wants to tell him that he knows it will be, but he loses consciousness again.

*

When Peter wakes up again, he hears the steady, gentle sound of machinery around him, and he knows that Wade must have brought him to Tony. When he opens his eyes, he sees that he’s lying in the medical room.

It’s quiet, and he sits up, realising that his torso is bare beneath the stiff white sheet of the bed. Someone has cleaned and bandaged his shoulder, and he can barely feel the pain anymore. There’s an IV inserted into the back of his left hand, connected to a bag of saline.

Wade is sitting slumped on a chair close to Peter, fast asleep. His head is resting on his arms on top of the table by the bed. Peter looks at him.

His husband.

In the early morning light creeping through the blinds, pale pink and soft, Wade looks positively gentle. Peter wonders what those ridges and bumps on his face feel like.

Peter could have died last night. It’s a possibility every night he goes outside as Spider-Man, but he dwells on it for a while this morning, staring down at his slumbering husband. He’s confused.

There is a water bottle by Wade’s head, and Peter reaches for it, his throat dry. It’s only as his fingers wrap around the bottle that he sees the two glittering golden bands next to Wade’s hand.

Breath catching in his throat, he lets the bottle go and picks up the two rings, lifting them to his face. They’re worn, duller than when they were first made, and Peter peers at the inscriptions inside the bands, knowing what he’ll find before he does: in the smaller ring the words are _ Never doubt I love  _ and in the larger ring they are  _ Now you’re in the world. _

Their wedding rings.

Peter remembers giving his back to Wade. He hadn’t ever expected to see it again, but here it is, nestled with its mate on Peter’s palm.

“Doubt thou that the stars are fire,” Wade says softly, and Peter looks at him to see those sharp eyes fixed on him. “Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love.”

His words make the hot tears burning Peter’s eye threaten to spill. He swallows. “Do you remember why we chose Hamlet, of all things, to inscribe on my wedding ring?” He tries to make the words sound light.

“Of course I do. It was your favourite thing you’d read in your English class.”

Peter exhales shakily. “What now?” he asks.

Wade sits up, stretching languidly like a cat. “Well, Stark tells me the bullet went clean through, so you’ll be okay. He said you could go home today. You need your rest. We’re in court tomorrow- Matt rang me while you were out.”

In court tomorrow. For their divorce. Peter nods, making himself drop the rings back to the table. They land with a surprisingly loud thud, making them both wince.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Peter says, touching the bandage gingerly. “Was Tony surprised we had been out together?”

Wade suddenly can’t look at him. “Well, to be honest, I think he was more surprised that I kept shouting at him to heal my goddamn husband.”

Peter groans. “Didn’t he already know? I sort of assumed he knew everything about me?”

“Who would guess you made a shitty life decision when you were a kid and married an asshole like me?” Wade asks. “I bet he never thought to look.”

That’s horribly true.

“Do you want me to call Harry?” Wade asks.

Peter shakes his head. “He doesn’t know.”

“That you’re Spider-Man? That’s crazy, Peter.”

Peter shrugs. There are things he wants to say, things he needs to think about, but he just smiles humorlessly. “I want to go home,” he says.


	7. Chapter 7

Wade takes him home and leaves him with a fond pat on the head and an instruction to get some rest. Peter can’t help thinking about their wedding rings as he lies down on his sofa, apparently stashed in Wade’s pocket for the past twelve years.

The pain in his shoulder is starting to come back, and he blames that as the tears that have been threatening to spill since he woke up start to fall. He cries into the cushion, thinking about Harry, thinking about Wade. What a dreadful mess.

He is supposed to be having dinner with Harry tonight, but he doesn’t fancy trying to explain a bullet wound to his fiance. There’s no guarantee Harry would even notice, of course, but it isn’t worth running the risk. Peter texts him, citing a bad case of flu as the reason, and falls asleep.

He dreams of Wade Wilson as he had been over a decade ago, smooth and beautiful, charming as hell.

When he wakes up, it’s getting dark outside. He sits up, thirsty and aching. He’s still wearing what he was wearing when he woke up this morning- a pair of soft, dark pyjama bottoms and nothing else. His naked torso is cold, and he shivers as he stands up and heads over to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.

He’s only taken one mouthful when there’s a knock at his door.

Peter knows without checking that it’s Wade.

He crosses to the door and opens it, taking in the familiar shape of the man he’s divorcing tomorrow. Wade is wearing jeans and a hoodie, and he looks wretched.

“Come in,” Peter says, automatically.

Wade nods, entering. He pushes the door behind him, but it doesn’t quite close fully, allowing a slither of the yellow light in the hallway outside to illuminate the darkness of his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asks Peter.

“I’ll be fine. What’s happened? Are you okay?”

Wade opens his mouth, then closes it. He reaches up to rub his face, frustrated, then sighs. “Shiklah and I… we aren’t getting married anymore.”

Peter experiences far more emotions than he can process. He stares at Wade for a long moment. “I… I’m sorry,” he manages.

Wade snorts. “Don’t be. It was for the best.”

“Do you want a drink?”

Wade meets his eye, and he nods gratefully. He crosses to the sofa and sits down on it heavily as Peter retrieves two bottles of beer from the fridge. He supposes he probably shouldn’t be drinking, but fuck it.

He sits down next to Wade, handing him a bottle. The sofa is small, and they’re pressed up against each other, thighs touching. Peter swallows.

“Cheers,” Wade mumbles, taking a long, deep mouthful of beer.

“What happened?” Peter asks the question because it’s polite, but he already knows the answer.

“You happened,” Wade replies, and he is staring at Peter, his gaze pinning him in place with its intensity. “You did. Our marriage happened.”

“I’m so sorry. It was a long time ago. You didn’t know we were still married. Did she not take it well?”

Despite everything, despite the pain in his chest he gets when he imagines Wade marrying someone else, Peter still hates the idea that his existence has caused Wade to lose someone he cares about.

Wade cocks his head. “She didn’t leave me, Peter. I left her.”

“What…? But-”

“I… I can’t marry someone else.”

Peter forces himself to swallow some beer. He’s trying very, very hard to think of Harry.

“I should have told you the truth when we were younger. I’m sorry that I didn’t,” Wade says, and his voice is quiet. “I wanted to protect you, but I’ve always been a selfish bastard, and I wanted to protect myself, too. I could never stand the idea of losing you.”

Peter can hear his heart thumping in his ears.

“Then I lost you anyway, and it nearly broke me. I found Shiklah, we were happy, but then when I found out we were still married, it was like all that old pain came rushing back. And then… and then when I realised that  _ you _ were Spider-Man…” Wade’s voice catches in his throat. “I don’t want anyone else, Peter. It’s always been you.”

The artificial hallway light is behind them both now, and the coming darkness of night is cloaking them both.

“I have… I can’t…”

Peter doesn’t know how he manages to get the words out.

“I know,” Wade says. “Fuck, I know.”

They stare at each other in the darkness, breathing in sync, and Peter reaches out to wrap his fingers around Wade’s. They’re both trembling.

“Divorced tomorrow,” Wade says, his voice artificially bright. “You’ll be free of me, after that, if you want.”

The thought of never seeing Wade again breaks Peter, even though he went twelve years without seeing his ridiculous husband. He feels the hot trail of a tear down his cheek. Wade reaches up and brushes it away softly, the pad of his thumb gentle against Peter’s skin.

“I… Wade, I don’t know if that’s what I want.”

Wade’s thumb is still resting on Peter’s cheek. “You don’t know if what is what you want?”

Shamefully, Harry’s face swimming before his eyes, Peter sighs. “A divorce.”

Wade opens his mouth, but a shadow passes over his face, and Peter realises too late that someone is standing in the crack left in the doorway by Wade.

Peter turns to look into Harry’s pale, horrified face.

“Harry,” he breathes.

Harry is clutching a bouquet of flowers. The knuckles of the hand clutching it are white. He looks almost ridiculously attractive, his hair perfectly styled, the collar of his black wool coat turned up. Peter hates himself in this moment.

“I’ll just…” Wade says, leaping up and moving as quickly as he would if someone was pointing a gun at him. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow- sorry…”

Harry steps aside to allow Wade to leave. Wade doesn’t even look back, and Peter tries hard to turn his attention to Harry.

How long was he stood at that door?

“You’re already married,” Harry says, hollowly.

Oh.

“Yes,” Peter says.

“How? We’ve been together so long. Did you… was it when we were…?”

“No. It was when I was eighteen.”

Peter’s whole body feels numb. Neither of them have moved, Harry still standing in the doorway holding his crushed bouquet, Peter still sitting on the sofa.

“I promise I didn’t know. I only found out a few days ago.”

“You didn’t think to tell me?” Harry asks, an edge to the words.

Peter closes his eyes. His cheeks are wet. “We both know that there’s a lot we haven’t been talking about for quite a long time,” he says, the words hoarse.

“That’s true,  _ Spider-Man.” _

Peter opens his eyes again, staring in horror at Harry. “How… how long…?”

“I always knew.” Harry is crying now, too.

“Your father…”

“It didn’t matter. It  _ doesn’t  _ matter. I love you, Peter.” Harry exhales. “But you’re right. We aren’t  _ in love,  _ are we?”

They stare at each other. Peter feels like someone has stolen one of his limbs.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I… I know.” Harry rubs his eyes. “I am, too. I think I’m going to… I’m going to go.”

Peter is left alone in the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

“My boyfriend broke up with me last night.”

Matt Murdock raises an eyebrow. “You mentioned, yes, Peter.”

They’re sitting outside the courtroom, waiting for Wade. Peter’s palms are wet, and he is shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, plucking at the stiff black suit he’s wearing.

“Do you do a lot of divorces?” Peter asks, trying to fill the silence, trying to distract himself from what they’re doing here.

Matt’s eyes are hidden behind his dark glasses, but Peter  _ knows  _ that he rolls them. “Peter, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. It will go smoothly. You’re both in agreement, and you’ve been apart for over a decade.”

“What if Wade doesn’t turn up?”

“He technically doesn’t have to,” Matt shrugs. “I’m acting on his behalf. He hasn’t legally contested the divorce.”

The idea of Wade not turning up today, of leaving Peter to deal with this alone, is heartbreaking. Peter rubs his face.

“I have sent him three messages,” Matt tells him. “Firstly, a polite reminder that he is supposed to be here. Then, a complaint that you keep telling me that your boyfriend broke up with you last night. Finally, some choice swear words.”

Peter barks out a nervous laugh.

The bailiff appears in the doorway for the third time, her youthful face twisted with impatience. “The judge is saying that we need to start,” she says.

So this is it. They’re going to go into that courtroom and legally remove Wade from Peter’s life forever.

Matt stands up, buttoning his dark suit jacket in an elegant motion. He claps Peter on the shoulder, and Peter tries to stand up, but it takes him a few seconds to make his legs work. Finally, they’re both entering the court.

The judge is a woman with a motherly face. It is currently creased with displeasure.

“What is the cause of this delay?” she asks.

“Mr Wilson has not arrived,” Matt explains. “Our apologies.”

“Be seated,” the judge instructs, and Peter finds himself sitting down beside Matt, looking up into her serious face. “Luckily, this won’t take a long time. The divorce of one Peter Benjamin Parker from Mr Wade Winston Wilson based on the grounds-”

“Sorry I’m late!”

Peter turns to see Wade striding down towards them, wearing a grey suit. He looks flustered, his cheeks pink. He offers Peter a grin before sitting down beside him.

“Mr Wilson,” the judge says, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice. “How good of you to join us.”

“I’d like to speak, if I may,” Wade announces.

Peter glances at him. He’s looking up at the judge with round, innocent eyes. Peter hears Matt groan.

“We already know the reasons for divorce- there’s no need to add anything further,” the judge says.

“I know. But I’d like to.” Wade blinks, swallowing and beginning to talk without waiting for permission. “Peter Benjamin Parker is my husband of some twelve years, although I have only seen him for a couple of days in that time. We married when we were young and foolish.”

“A sensible reason for divorce, then,” Matt pipes up, sounding exasperated.

“Peter is an amazing man,” Wade says, and his voice is suddenly soft. Peter stares at him. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, but when I thought about him, I couldn’t imagine that he was the same perfect person I married. I didn’t think I would still love him. But he’s even more perfect, and I love him even more than I thought I was capable of.”

Peter has stopped breathing.

“I know it’s unusual, unorthodox, even, to say this at one’s own divorce hearing, but the truth is simple, Judge: I object.”

Matt puts his head in his hands.

“To what, exactly, do you object?” the judge asks, sounding infuriated now.

“Our divorce.” Wade turns to Peter, blue eyes glowing. “I love you, Peter. God knows I’m the same useless asshole you married twelve years ago, but I can’t stand the idea of losing you again. Will you marry me?”

Peter’s eyes are brimming with happy tears. “We’re already married,” he says.

“This is  _ ridiculous-”  _ the judge rages.

“That’s incredibly convenient,” Wade tells him, ignoring the judge completely, and reaching into his pocket to produce their rings. “What do you say to putting this back on?”

Peter nods, breathless. Wade slips it over his knuckle, and Peter swallows.

“I can’t believe this,” Matt mutters.

“I love you,” Peter tells Wade.

They kiss, lips colliding with all of the passion and love they’ve found again, mouths coming together in a hot, breathless rush. Wade tastes the same as he always did. Peter's body melts against him.

“I'm sorry,” Wade whispers against his mouth.

Peter shakes his head. It doesn't matter, now.

“I hate you,” Matt deadpans behind them. “I hate you both.”


End file.
